Whatever Will Be
by morgangirl11
Summary: "He hadn't expected her to say yes, for the serious detective to agree to celebrate a case by having drinks with him. And he definitely hadn't expected a couple of beers and shots of whiskey to unearth a bold invitation to her apartment." Set at the end of "Little Girl Lost" (1x09), when the C/B relationship was still raw.


**Disclaimer: I own nothing. I'll leave that to Marlowe & Co., since they've been doing just fine without me.**

**A/N: This was inspired by an awesome tumblr manip (not mine), in which Castle and Beckett kiss in Season One. I started with a few tags in response and then let myself get carried away from there.**

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Her back hit the wall with more force than he had intended and the resulting gasp absorbed his focus for a moment. Before he could ask if she was okay, she swallowed his concern with her hungry mouth, hands wrapped around his biceps to pull him even closer. He let himself press against her, his lower body intent on leading the way, hers glad to meet him halfway.

He hadn't expected her to say yes, for the serious detective to agree to celebrate a case by having drinks with him. And he definitely hadn't expected a couple of beers and shots of whiskey to unearth a bold invitation to her apartment. Regardless, he had no complaints as her tongue came alive against his, her perfect moan giving him something to chase for the rest of his life.

Their kiss became sloppy as they each attempted to tug away their own jackets, unwilling to separate completely, but falling into a chaotic pattern of biting, licking, and simply breathing into each other's mouths. Jackets aside, she roughly untucked his shirt and let her nimble fingers work through his buttons; his mouth fell to her sharp jawline, nipping his way down to her neck while his hands crept below the hemline of her blouse.

Her breath was hot against his ear and he almost missed her question. "So, how much of you being here tonight is about you continuing to mark your territory? I mean, I already heard your panda theory."

"Hey now. It seems like the only one trying to mark anything during this case was Sorenson. I was just observing, as always." He bit her neck, far from innocent now that they were alone. "And you didn't bring _him_ home with you tonight, so the panda theory can't be too far off."

She pulled back to study him, her lip caught between her teeth as she nodded. "Well, it was just a kiss. And, like you said, he's not here now."

With that, she dragged his shirt down his arms and tossed it aside, her mouth quickly exploring as much of his newly exposed skin as possible, distracting him for several seconds as she worked over his chest. She was bold, short nails scratching over his nipples, teeth leaving indentations across his shoulder. Suddenly needing access to more of her body, he nudged her head out of the way and ripped her blouse open, unapologetic about the buttons lost to dark corners of her living room. It joined the rest of the clothes on the floor and he quickly lowered his mouth to her simple black bra, sucking at her through the fabric and teasing the taut nipples that stood eager for attention.

Clawing at his head, finding purchase in his hair, she jerked him back up for another dirty kiss. Honestly, it was everything he would have expected from her, fierce and unforgiving. Still, he was more than receptive, ready to take it all from her until his abused mouth spoke without his permission.

"So, how much of pressing your half-naked body against me is about your attempt to forget that kiss? Or are you working harder to forget that he left?"

Even he heard the surprising bitterness in his question, and her glare only confirmed it; clearly his jealousy over the man's presence would take some time to dissipate. He closed his eyes against the regret of his runaway accusation and prepared to be thrown out into the hall, probably without getting his shirt back first. Instead, he landed hard on the floor, caught unaware by the leg sweeping his feet out from under him in one of the sexiest defensive techniques he'd had the privilege of witnessing. She climbed on top of him immediately, straddling his hips, pinning his arms above his head, and letting his question sit unanswered by the door.

Her stare was icy, but the way she rocked herself over him was anything but. For a moment, he wondered if she was going to punish him by getting him off in his pants and then making him leave before he could touch her again, but she eventually released his hands and hurriedly reached back to remove her bra. Figuring she'd taken it off for a reason, he didn't hesitate to cup both breasts in his hands, all tenderness gone as he followed her lead.

His thumbs brushed across her nipples briefly before he pinched them between his fingers and gauged her reaction; her hips stopped moving and her head was thrown back on a moan, telling him all he needed to know. Even while happy to take his time, watching her closely and cataloging every reaction from her now trembling body, his hands got more forceful against her, until she'd finally had enough.

Or needed more.

She rose above him and hurried to rid herself of her remaining clothes; he mirrored her, fighting his way out of his pants and boxers as he managed to kick his shoes and socks aside. Before he could reach for her smooth skin, the long lines of her body beckoning his fingertips, she positioned herself between his legs, lowered her head, and took him deep into her mouth. His hands naturally threaded through her hair, his palms following the rise and fall of her head, but he wasn't content to remain passive for long.

He tugged at her hair, until he realized that was giving her the entirely wrong idea, spurring her on more and increasing the pace of her mouth against him. Moving his hands to her shoulders, he pulled again, managing to groan her name.

Releasing him and meeting his eyes, she actually looked annoyed at the interruption. "What?"

"Turn." He made a vague gesture, but she caught on quickly, one perfect eyebrow arched in his direction.

She did it, though, rotating her body so that she could straddle his head before her mouth began to work him over again. Her legs were spread wide, but he still used his broad hands to hold her open, his first taste coming from the slickness that had crept to the inside of her thighs. Open-mouthed kisses there caused her to shiver and he couldn't help but smile against her skin, knowing he had just gotten started. His tongue began to tease, flicking against her clit for only a moment before he dragged the tip across every part of her he could reach. She was so wet and he wanted it all.

Knowing he was operating with a finite amount of time, needing to make her come before he lost control himself, he raised his head from the floor and feasted on her. Employing his lips, teeth, tongue, and even the stubble on his chin, he made her squirm above him; he was able to drop his head back down when she began to grind against his mouth, using him however she wanted.

Letting him slip from her lips once again, her hips slowed and he forced the climax from her shaking body, doing whatever he could to prolong it for her. Her restrained moan made him think that she'd clamped down on her oft abused lower lip, and fuck if that didn't turn him on even more, the idea of her trying to hold back something much more primal. Still lapping at her sensitive skin as she quieted, he finally gave her a break and removed his hands from where they had gripped her thighs so firmly. She'd probably be bruised tomorrow.

He felt her fingers wrap around him for a third time and her mouth returning to suck on his tip, the pressure and attention to detail something he couldn't have written into any novel. It had to stop.

"Beckett, wait."

She turned to glare at him again, apparently unhappy with another interruption, and he almost laughed at the venom she managed to produce so soon after a moment of ecstasy. Of course, when it came to his presence, that scowl was almost habitual. She said nothing, simply waiting for an explanation.

"I just-I don't want it to end this way." It was slightly strange to be having a conversation while her knees were still situated next to his head, but it was a serious request. "I want to be inside you."

Her smirk gave her away, even as her response was contrary. "In case you missed it, you _were_ inside me."

"Not what I meant, Detective."

For a second, he thought she'd actually make him elaborate, but apparently her patience had worn thin and she spun around again, climbing atop his body and positioning him between her legs. She rubbed him against her mischievously, traces of amused annoyance still falling from her eyes; it was an expression he'd welcome for as long as she was willing to share. Finally taking him deep with one graceful slide of her body, she froze briefly, almost as if she wanted to wrap up the moment and save it for lonely night; in the next instant, she was wildly active, riding him as if it meant nothing at all.

His hands were anchored on her breasts again, even rougher with them than he had been earlier, tweaking her nipples and relishing the way her eyes rolled back in response to his touch. Her fingers were splayed across his chest, clenching against his sweaty skin in an attempt to hold on as her body became uncontrollable above him, the feverish pace leaving both of them behind. They were spiraling together, but he wasn't ready for it to end, choosing instead to fight back with a dominance he'd kept tucked away during their partnership.

Quickly moving his hands to her hips, his grip tighter than strictly necessary, he rolled them over and slammed himself deep inside her, an exclamation point of sorts. Her mouth already open in surprise, he took the opportunity to sweep his tongue against hers. As soon as she regained control, she bit down on his lower lip, her grin devilish even as the metallic hint of blood tiptoed along his taste buds. It wasn't as if they'd been careful up until that point, but all restraint was swallowed alongside their mutual cries for more.

He managed to grab a handful of her hair, pulling it back and leaving her neck arched invitingly below him. She'd probably kill him for the unforgiving trail of marks he left behind, but he was overcome with the need to devour her, his mouth acting on its own accord. She retaliated by carving ten uneven lines into his back, the sting on his shoulder blades causing him to drive into her even more forcefully. He pounded her into the unforgiving floor and she fought back with sharp hips that countered each of his thrusts.

Given how close they'd both been before he'd flipped them, it came as no surprise to feel her beginning to tense beneath him, chasing something that he'd happily provide. When she loosened her hold on his back and prepared to ease a practiced hand between their messily joined bodies, he managed to grab her wrist and pin it above her head. They both knew she could get free; they both knew she wouldn't.

Shifting so that his weight was braced by the arm restraining hers, he reached down with his free hand and pressed tight circles against her clit, wet, swollen, and desperate for his attention.

"Don't stop yourself this time, Beckett. Let me hear you."

She flashed another irritated smirk at him, probably unenthused by the idea of feeding his ego any more than she already had, but he never slowed, driving her so rapidly toward her climax that there was really nothing she could do about it. Any noise previously contained by the prison of her bit lip poured freely from somewhere much deeper, much more intimate. Her vulgar pleas and throaty sobs pulled forth his own pathetically grunted release, a few final pumps into her convulsing body leaving him drained in too many ways.

He lifted himself off her and collapsed at her side, their panting the only sound in the dark room. He closed his eyes and let his talented mind replay the highlights in exorbitant detail, replacing his fantasies with a reality that had been so much better. It was only his exhaustion that stopped him from scooping her into his arms, carrying her to bed, and trying to bring new sounds from her mouth with a much more leisurely pace, one that would allow him to learn more about the subtleties of her skin.

Apparently, she had something else in mind, standing up fast enough to make _his_ head spin. His clothes were tossed toward his still recovering body and he watched as she carefully schooled her features, shut down after an evening of letting him get close.

"You probably have to get back to your daughter. And I need to get some sleep after the week we've had."

He sat up, shaking his head. "Actually, I-"

"Castle, it's fine."

Enough broken relationships had told him that 'fine' meant anything but; still, he was silenced by the tone of her voice, authoritative and stopping any argument before he could voice it. He stood to dress alongside her, both covering up the evidence that anything had happened, only allowed to acknowledge it once they were naked again in the privacy of their own bedrooms.

Moving to the front door, only a few feet from where they'd fallen, he turned to her, ever the optimist.

"See you tomorrow?"

The crease between her brows made him want to smooth it with a kiss, but her words kept him away. "Probably not. We don't have a case or anything. No point in you following me for nothing, right?"

No, no. It was all wrong. Following her for _nothing_?

Didn't she recognize that their arrangement had become about more than the cases? Didn't she understand that he was entirely driven by _her_ and not the homicides of New York? Didn't she see that she'd stopped being a conquest the day she'd showed him her mother's ring? Didn't she know that he'd learned too much of her story to stop reading before he reached the last page?

He'd been quiet too long and the door was being pushed closed against his stunned body, forcing him to back away. He heard the locks click and turned to stare down the empty hallway.

No, she didn't.

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Thank you all for reading. I always appreciate it!


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